


I'm the master of disaster (the best at fearing the worst)

by Sammy_is_obsessed



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Angst/Fluff, Comforting, Crying, Hurt/Comfort, I just keep making the man cry, Juno steel is a good girlfriend, Other, Peter nureyev hates himself big yikes, Sad Peter Nureyev, Sad with a Hopeful Ending, but Juno's here to help, but it's still a hopeful ending so we good, oh uh arguing I guess, sometimes its fun to break Peter Nureyev down sorry, the obligatory nureyev stays up too late looking at schematics fic, they're working on it folks, this turned out a lot sadder than I'd planed oops, typical nureyev levels of insecurity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:41:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29876487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sammy_is_obsessed/pseuds/Sammy_is_obsessed
Summary: "Babe, you’re one of the hardest working people I know. You always go above and beyond, and that’s fantastic– but you need to get some rest.”“Rest will do us very little good when we’re all dead or jailed as a result of my failings.”It’s apparent immediately that was a poor choice of words. Before he can so much as react, the schematic is snatched off of the desk, held tightly in Juno’s hand.“Juno!”“No. I can’t let you look at these anymore. Not tonight.”Nureyev isn’t sure he’s ever heard Juno speak to him so sternly and, at present, he loathes it.“Give that back to me this instant!” He exclaims shrilly, trying desperately to ignore the petulance in his voice.
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 16
Kudos: 63





	I'm the master of disaster (the best at fearing the worst)

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out quite a lot longer than I'd intended and a bit sadder but it's hurt/comfort so it's still on-brand for me.

Throughout his life, Peter Nureyev has learned to wear a great many masks. Faking confidence and poise is something he prides himself on. To the untrained eye, the confidence he exudes is 100% authentic. He’s spent a career learning to play these roles to the best of his ability, not allowing the mask to slip so much as an inch.

In the end, though, that’s all it ever will be. A mask.

With each passing year, his skills dwindle. His agility, his mind, his beauty… so, logically, he just needs to work harder. He can’t afford to do anything else; this is all he knows and all he ever will know. If Nureyev wants to earn this place in this crew, in this universe, he can’t allow himself to go any softer than he already has. And oh dear, has he gone soft… Feelings and all of their complicated connotations place more than a few stressors on his constant striving to be better. Feelings for Juno Steel.

It isn’t as though he doesn’t welcome these feelings with open arms most of the time. Loving Juno comes easier than he’d ever thought it possible to love another. His radiant light, his angel, his muse, his Goddess, his – _thorn in his side_. At least, at the moment.

“Nureyev, it’s two in the _goddamn_ morning.”

He spares a withering glance at the clock before his eyes return to the blueprints he’s been surveying.

“Ah, so it is. Far too late for you to be up, dear detective. If memory serves correctly, you get rather cranky when you’re tired.” Without looking, Nureyev can feel the glare Juno is sending him.

“If this is your way of trying to get me to go back to bed without you, fat chance,” says Juno from behind him. His tone is testy, but there’s something festering beneath that. Something insidiously worrisome.

_There’s nothing to be worried about_ , Nureyev thinks to himself, _I’m fine. Of course, I’m fine. I’m merely doing my job_. None of these thoughts manage to make it out of his mouth. Instead, he says,

“You look positively exhausted, my love.” He turns around in his chair and cups either side of Juno’s face, thumb tracing over faint stubble, “Whatever are you doing awake at this hour?”

“What’re you doing awake at this hour?” Juno parrots, rather snippily for a lady who’s currently leaning into his touch so affectionately.

“I’m going over the schematics before our job tomorrow. One can’t be too careful.” The _I can’t have a repeat of last tim_ e goes unsaid. He prays Juno doesn’t know what occupies his mind. Missing a camera. Looking at the blueprint’s upside down, of all of the stupid, embarrassing things he could’ve –

_Focus , Peter_, he reminds himself, stroking Juno’s soft jawline. He could get lost in this, sampling caressing his love’s face, studying the shape of him, the beauty in every inch of skin if he let himself. He cannot let himself.

Nureyev thinks of how easily he’s charmed marks. With a knife-sharp smile and an impressive arsenal of masks, he’s swept them off of their feet and swept their treasures right from under them. Surely, he can convince Juno Steel to return to bed without him.

“Nureyev, you’ve been going over this for hours. Knowing you, you already know it like the back of your hand,” Juno protests, squirming out of Nureyev’s hold and gripping his forearm. “Come on, let’s go back to bed.”

That’s just it. He _had_ been in bed with him. As of late, they’ve spent very few nights in separate rooms. The solace he finds in Juno’s company is unmatched, and he doesn’t doubt the feeling is mutual. And he’d tried to sleep tonight, truly, he had. Lying beside Juno is a balm to his weary soul nearly all of the time, lulling him into a state of peace he’d seldom known. But sometimes, even the steadying presence of Juno Steel isn’t enough to calm Nureyev’s restless mind. He cannot allow himself to become more distracted than he already is. He needs to do his job to the absolute best of his ability, and if that means missing a few hours of sleep, then so be it.

Unfortunately, Juno disagrees.

“Honey. C’mon, you’re gonna work yourself to death.”

“I’m fine, Juno. Please, don’t let me keep you from going back to sleep,” he says briskly, brushing Juno’s hand aside and loathing doing so all the same. His eyes return to the schematics.

“Of all the stubborn bastards I could’ve fallen for,” Juno mutters aloud, though he’s included to believe it’s more of an internal monologue than something he’s meant to respond to, “You are keeping me from going back to sleep. Because you aren’t coming with me.”

Nureyev sighs, feeling his hand settle onto his shoulder.

“Juno.”

“Yeah?” Juno asks irritation and that damned concern that won’t seem to go away, buzzing in his voice.

“I need to do this. I promise I’ll come back to bed in a moment.” Juno scoffs.

“Nuh-uh. The last time you told me you’d come back to bed ‘in a moment I found you passed out at your desk drooling all over the floorplans. You’re not going to be any more prepared for the job if you’re exhausted.”

He despises that Juno can use the fact that he found him asleep at his desk – _once!_ – as leverage. He almost counters that he’s functioned perfectly fine during previous heists on just one or two hours of sleep. Almost. Such arguments will hardly win Juno’s favor, it seems.

“I will not be exhausted. I told you, I’m perfectly fine. I promise, just a few more minutes –.”

“ _Nureyev_.”

He doesn’t want to, but the sudden change in his tone is so drastic he can’t help but turn to face him. when his eyes meet Juno’s a chill runs down his spine, realizing just how much concern lies within it.

“…yes?”

“What’s the matter?”

“The matter?” he asks as though he doesn’t know the meaning of the word, perhaps laying it on a _bit_ too thick, “Why, nothing’s the matter. Nothing at all. I haven’t the faintest idea where you would get such a notion.”

“Babe,” he says, voice dipping down into even more worry, damn it all, “You know I love you. More than anything. But– you’re a really bad liar when it comes to this stuff.”

Despite himself, Nureyev lets out a sigh, his head slumping forward. Even in the low light, the defeat etched into his features must be pathetically impossible to miss. The hand on his shoulder tightens just so, giving a squeeze he knows is meant to be reassuring. It isn’t.

“Hon?”

“I need to do this, Juno.”

“But you don’t. you’re going to run yourself into the ground if you keep at it like you have been.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says, winching at the way his voice cracks.

“Of course, it matters!” Juno defends boldly. If he were a weaker man, he’d find it endearing, how very much Juno cares for him. How strongly he believes he’s doing him a favor. Peter Nureyev is not that man.

“There’s no reason for you to suffer. No one’s expecting you to be perfect, especially me. A job never goes 100%, not even with a ton of prep. We know that you’re amazing at what you do. We trust you, Nureyev. And you should trust yourself. You work so hard.”

_Oh, Juno. I wish I could see myself the way you do_. For a moment, he considers saying just that. A dose of honesty might do him some good, maybe it would help. Instead, he grits out,

“Not hard enough.”

His eyes return to the schematics, scanning so quickly his vision swims. He needs this. Juno just doesn’t understand. Frantically, he searches for a mask to conceal the mess that’s eking out of his every crevice, only to come up tragically empty. There’s no hiding from Juno Steel, he knows that for a fact. It fails to discourage his efforts.

“What’re you talking about? Babe, you’re one of the hardest working people I know. You always go above and beyond, and that’s fantastic– but you need to get some rest.”

“Rest will do us very little good when we’re all dead or jailed as a result of my failings.”

It’s apparent immediately that was a poor choice of words. Before he can so much as react, the schematic is snatched off of the desk, held tightly in Juno’s hand.

“Juno!”

“No. I can’t let you look at these anymore. Not tonight.”

Nureyev isn’t sure he’s ever heard Juno speak to him so sternly and, at present, he loathes it.

“Give that back to me this instant!” He exclaims shrilly, trying desperately to ignore the petulance in his voice.

Juno wheels backward, dodging Nureyev’s attempted swoop towards the paper. The thief advances, sending Juno tumbling a little as he takes two more steps rearward.

“Give it back!”

Again, Juno swerved from his grasp, his weight shifting from right foot to left as Nureyev comes at him with a fiery fury he hasn’t indulged in ever so long.

“I can’t. listen, I’m sorry and I know you’re mad–.”

“Oh, I’m mad, am I? You don’t know the half of it, Juno.”

Another dodge, veering away, schematics just out of his reach. Despite how well the ex-detective has fared this fair, Peter has caged him in, Juno’s back both metaphorically and physically against the wall. He could take it right now he knows he could; it wouldn’t be hard. Juno is an incredibly strong and capable man but, at the moment, he’s in a position of disadvantage. He could just… take it. _Why_ doesn’t he just take it?

“You’re torturing yourself.”

“Well, maybe I deserve it!”

Tension prickles in the air, the volume of his voice surprising them both. The silence that falls over the room is deafening, interrupted only by the sound of his ragged breathing.

There’s an apology on the tip of his tongue, for snapping like that, for yelling at him, for trapping him. But then,

“Nureyev…” Juno extends a hand cautiously towards his shoulder, his other hand still clutching the schematics. It’s out of instinct, the way Nureyev reacts. Self-preservation. With nearly all of his force, he shoves Juno away from me, pressing him so hard against the wall that his head bangs against it upon impact. He stumbles, struggling to regain his bearings but when his eye meets Nureyev’s the look on his face is devastating. Instantly, the weight of what he’s done bears down on me. He psychically pushed Juno away from himself. He could have _hurt_ him. He can’t think, he can hardly breathe –

Juno opens his mouth, face wound up in defiance. But then, he pauses, his lips pressing together. The seconds in which he deliberates his next words seem to stretch on for hours; Nureyev thinks it possible he’d fare better in the cold vacuum of space than in this room.

“If you want me to leave,” Juno begins, rubbing the back of his head. Nureyev stares at him wide-eyed and trembling. Juno’s shoulders are squared, with obvious anger to his stance. Yet… he’s speaking so softly to him, even now, “If that’s what you need right now, then… okay. That’s okay. But I can’t let you have this back.”

Any intelligible response feels unreachable, his mind so preoccupied with self-pity and desperation. It’s only when Juno moves as if to scotch past him and towards the door that a switch flips in the back of his mind.

“Wait.”

It’s deplorable, how small his voice comes out. He sounds so weak, and while vulnerability is something he and Juno have been working on, it never seems to get any easier. If Juno had any sense, he wouldn’t listen to a word more. If Juno’s half as smart as Nureyev believes him to be, he’d look for someone else, sparing himself of the train wreck.

Instead, Juno stops and waits, and Nureyev isn’t sure he’s ever felt so stupidly relieved.

Frustration is obvious in Juno’s expression, the tightness in his jaw, and the almost-scowl on his face, but his worry far outweighs it, even more so than before. He’s waiting for Nureyev to speak, to explain, to say, well, _anything_. His love, bless him, is so unexplainably patient with him but only so many seconds can pass before he’s expected to speak.

And he’s trying. But his brain feels so clouded with static, his throat desperately parched and a terrible, unwelcome warmth behind his eyes he finds himself fighting a losing battle against. Nureyev is unraveling right in front of the person who means absolutely everything to him and no matter what he tries, it won’t stop.

“I…” he tries but the words get clogged in his throat.

“Hey,” Juno says, voice, despite everything, achingly gentle, “It’s gonna be okay. Take your time.”

Nureyev manages a nod, throat bobbing with an uneasy swallow. Sucking in a breath he says,

“I’m…” he shakes his head and shuts his eyes, perhaps to keep himself from seeing the expression Juno wears, “I’m afraid.”

His body trembles uselessly like a child. His heart pounds, his skin having gone peakish. All of the fight he thought he’d retained exists his body, reducing Peter Nureyev to a husk of the man he tries so frantically to portray. He winces at the lack of an immediate response, slinking to the bed and collapsing into a hunched seated position.

“That’s okay,” he hears Juno say, followed by the bed dipping down beside him. He hardly realizes that he’s shut his eyes again until he opens them to see Juno, looking at him with far more compassion than he deserves, “There’s nothing wrong with that. And, if you want to, we can talk about it. But I promise you, it’s okay to be scared.”

Juno wouldn’t have said that a year ago. Frankly, Juno wouldn’t have acted this way at all then, they wouldn’t be in this situation at all. And… god, isn’t that something strange to ponder? Juno had grown so tremendously in their time apart. And here Peter is, the same, if not worse than before. He hadn’t grown at all. His chest aches. Why is Juno doing this? Why is it that despite the way he’s behaved, he’s still here by his side? He hasn’t done anything to possibly deserve this.

“But it isn’t,” he chokes out melodramatically, each word more of a struggle than the first, “Nothing about this is okay.”

“What isn’t okay?”

“I…” again, in all of their treachery, words fail him. _Everything_ , he wants to answer. _Absolutely everything is going wrong and I am nothing, have amounted to nothing_. “I… I don’t know.” he sobs out instead, the tears he’s fought a losing battle against overtaking him, spilling hot down his cheeks. It’s been such a long time since he’s stooped to this level crying this way. And to do so in front of Juno? Mortified doesn’t even begin to cover the feeling.

“Hey, hey,” Juno says gently, his hand settling gently on Nureyev’s shoulder, “It’s gonna be okay. I know it will. C’mere.”

Nureyev scrubs at his eyes furiously despite the tears that keep falling. _What is wrong with him?!_

“I– I'm. I don’t know _why_ I’m crying,” he admits, foolishly believing it possible to stop, “This is– I don’t–.”

“Nureyev,” Juno cuts in encouragingly, “Honey, can I hold you? Would that be okay right now?”

Nureyev sniffles, weighing his options. He wants to – no. He _should_ leave this situation. He should cling onto what little dignity that remains and spare Juno of a melt-down he hadn’t even seen coming. But… Juno is still there beside him, a look on his face like he’d do anything and more to soothe him. And, embarrassing and awful though it is, being soothed does sound rather nice.

He nods meekly, gasping when a pair of strong arms wind around his torso, pulling him tight against him. Juno’s embrace is solid and warm, unlike anything of this universe. Finding such comfort in another’s arms is something he for so long believed to be foolish. He hadn’t known the tranquility he could be granted, even as the universe implodes around him.

Nureyev’s breaths come out in hiccups, quickly growing frantic. Intaking air becomes an increasingly difficult process and his vision is blurring. He hardly notices it at first, But Juno’s begun counting in his ear, guiding him through a breathing exercise. It takes what might be minutes or might be hours before he can breathe without feeling as though his lungs have been engulfed in flames.

His concentration flickers in and out, bouncing between Juno’s hand rubbing circles into the gap between his shoulder blades, the gentle voice in his ear, and the schematics now back on the table. Minutes ago, he’d been willing to fight tooth and nail for them, and they are so close but now… now he’s exhausted. When his breathing stops hitching so much and he’s, for the most part, ceased his inane crying, Juno pulls away to look at him.

He is _so_ beautiful. Nureyev will never fail to be amazed by the grace of this incredible lady who, for whatever reason, gives him the time of day.

“Hey, I’ve got you,” Juno says, startled, realizing how intensely Nureyev is still shaking. He cups the thief’s face in his callused hands, kissing the crown of Nureyev’s head and pressing their foreheads flush. “It’s alright baby. It’s okay.”

“J-Juno.”

“Shh,” he coos, “You don’t have to say anything until you’re ready, okay?”

Nureyev nods gratefully, maneuvering so that his head is lying against Juno’s chest. The ex-detective reclines onto the bed, slipping a hand into the thief’s silky hair and tracing circles along his hairline. Nureyev hums at the contact, mentally grasping for the whisp of contentment that’s quickly evading his grasp. He considers his position, wishing foolishly to lie here with Juno running a hand through his hair forevermore. In this blessed embrace, Nureyev is almost able to completely cast tomorrow’s mission out of his mind. He almost forgets that it’s unlikely he’s anywhere near as prepared as Juno believes.

The urge to peel himself out of Juno’s arms and dart for the schematics grips him suddenly. He thinks of all of the knowledge that could be gleaned by simply taking another look at it. He could just… brush up on the info – for but a moment! – a quick study session. But then, his attention is pulled back to his lover. Juno, who’s awake holding and consoling him, despite his own exhaustion. Juno, who’s taking care of him despite his frankly venomous attitude. Juno, who would be so disappointed if he did so.

He can’t bring himself to it. Not now.

With the minutes he’s been allowed to recollect himself, Nureyev realizes Juno must’ve turned another light on some time ago, the small bedroom bathed in a dim, warm orange glow. Regardless of how urgently he wants to continue to cling to Juno, slowly, he pulls away and sits up. His lady sits too, a cautious hand settling on the small of Nureyev’s back.

“Love… I’m– I’m _so_ sorry.” In truth, he doesn’t know which of his many sins he’s trying to apologize for. For screaming at Juno, for pushing him, or for dampening his shirt with his wretched tears? It doesn’t matter what he says, nothing will take away the way he’s acted.

“Nureyev. Honey, it’s like I already told you: it’s okay.”

How can Juno be so sure? How does he, the universe be damned, continue to do anything in his power to ease Nureyev’s mind without going insane?

He shakes his head.

“No. No, it isn’t. Juno, I’ve been dreadful to you. You don’t deserve any of what you’ve endured…” Nureyev mutters, eyes on his lap. Juno sighs beside him.

“You’re being too hard on yourself.”

“Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle back?” he retorts before he can think about it, “As I recall, you were the stubborn detective with no regard for his own life.”

“Nureyev…”

Nureyev exhales sharply, clenching his teeth.

“I know,” he sighs, realization having quickly dawned, “I know. That– that was unfair. I’m sorry,” he winces, “ _Again_.”

“You really are, though. Being too hard on yourself, that is. You’re acting like you just spat on my brother’s grave or something,” – Nureyev does _not_ care for the imagery – “You just…”

“I just?”

“Acted a little bitchy,” Juno answers in lieu of a more detailed description, though not without adding, “Which I’m not mad at you for, okay?” Nureyev would cast doubt on that statement, were it not for the sincerity burning in Juno’s voice. “I just want to help, hon.”

“I know,” he laments, “You’re far too good to me, Juno.”

“You deserve it. You deserve the world, you know that?” Nureyev does not. Still, Juno grabs his hand and squeezes it tight, “You’re good, baby. You’re so good. I love you. More than anything.”

“I love you too,” says Nureyev quietly, tracing his thumb along Juno’s knuckles distractedly.

“It’s… hard, y’ know? Seeing you hurting,” the former detective says softly. Somehow, Nureyev manages the courage to catch meet his eye, wet and nostalgic for some time simpler – whenever the hell that was. Knowing that he’s responsible for that look in his eye sets a pit in his stomach.

“I don’t mean to hurt you, Juno.”

“No, hey,” Juno counters, “Honey, you don’t need to feel guilty about my feelings. That’s not what I meant at all, it’s just– I wish I knew how to help.”

They sit there in the strained quiet for a time, Nureyev fiddling with the bracelets he’d forgotten to take off before he’d joined Juno in bed. Why couldn’t he have stayed there with him? None of this would be happening if he’d shut his eyes and ignored the siren call of furthering his studying.

“In truth…” Nureyev says suddenly, his voice brittle, “I don’t think I know how to help myself. Most days, I don’t even know who I’ve become anymore.”

He hadn’t intended to speak at all, but now that he’s started, he isn’t sure how to stop, a flood of brutal honesty passing from his lips.

“Nureyev–.”

“I _don’t_. I’ve spent so long pretending, Juno,” he presses on, unaware of how tightly he’s holding Juno’s hand, “I’ve played so many roles. It’s grown to feel comfortable– being someone else. Anyone else. I… I don’t know if I remember how to stop. I don’t know who I am. I…I’m not certain I was a real person to begin with.”

He releases Juno’s hand, catching the growing tension in his own. He can tell Juno’s searching for a response, his silent contemplation deafening. He’s wearing a look of such deep hurt on his face and Nureyev cannot curse himself enough for the admission. Then,

“You aren’t pretending right now.”

“Beg pardon?”

“I said, you aren’t pretending right now. You’re being honest about how you feel, right?”

“Well– yes. Yes, I am.”

“You aren’t playing a character right now, are you?”

“I…”

“Who’re you right now?”

“Juno, I don’t understand–.”

He _doesn’t_. He cannot fathom what Juno’s trying to argue but, whatever it is, it’s making him incredibly anxious.

“Who are you?”

Nureyev bites his lip, shaking his head. He intends to answer in some form, but nothing comes out.

“I’ll tell you who you are,” Juno says, voice brimming with unprecedented amounts of sincerity, “You’re the smartest, most resourceful person I’ve ever known. You’re a master thief. You’re from Bramah. You’re beautiful and stubborn, and funny, and capable, and _fucking_ incredible. You’re Peter Nureyev; you told me that the day we met. You gave me that gift and, despite what you might think, I’ve never entirely felt like I deserved it. Please. Let me help you, Nureyev. Let me prove that worth.”

“Juno…”

It will always be startling, knowing this is how Juno sees him. he knew his lady thought highly of him – but he’d hardly expected him to practically start into a speech. _Of course_ , Juno deserved to know his name; he’ll never doubt that. To consider otherwise would be preposterous.

“I know you,” Juno says fiercely, “The _real_ you. I’ve known Glass and Rose, Ransom and all the rest but they don’t matter to me. You do.”

Nureyev opens his mouth, likely to disagree, he isn’t entirely sure, but Juno isn’t finished.

“And I know that it’s hard, to be yourself 100% and feel safe. I get that. But… honey, it’s _okay_ that you’re scared. And it’s okay that you’re insecure in yourself sometimes.”

_Insecure_? Nureyev almost refutes it, almost laughs at the mere idea of it.

But reality quickly dawns. He cannot dispute this, no matter how desperately he wants to. His heart sinks. Juno’s hand returns to his shoulder swiftly, a steadying touch.

“I…” Nureyev swallows thickly, his eyes trained on his lap, “There are things I must do, Juno. As a part of this crew. There are certain… expectations.”

“Nureyev. _You’re_ the only one putting those expectations on yourself.”

_Goodness_ , the sureness in Juno’s tone makes it difficult to solider on.

“I’ve… I have made unforgivable errors. I’ve endangered the crew; endangered _you_ ,” Nureyev bites out like the words hurt, “T…there are things I need to do, to right those wrongs.”

“Wright those wrongs?” Juno asks incredulously, “Like hell you do! Everyone makes mistakes, even on jobs. Fuck, you’re talking to the queen of making stupid mistakes! Think of all the shit you’ve forgiven me for.”

“That’s– that isn’t–.”

“Isn’t the same?” Juno cuts in, “Uh, _yeah_. It is. Listen, I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but you don’t need to do this, and you don’t have anything to prove. I _promise_ you don’t have anything to prove.”

Nureyev has betrayed himself with weakness too many times to count tonight and it doesn’t appear he’s stopping any time soon. Those wretched tears make a reappearance, pooling in his eyes. He doesn’t believe the things Juno’s said, he can’t allow that, it’ll only further hinder him. it’s– it _must_ be dangerous, considering the ex-detective’s points; dear lord, he’s _considering_ it.

Juno doesn’t comment on the fact he’s had another emotional outburst, instead asking: “Isn’t it exhausting, putting in this much work? Aren’t you tired, Nureyev?”

Finally, a question he can easily answer.

“Yes,” he chokes out, the words so fragile it’s as though they’re cracking the moment they’re spoken, “I-it feels necessary, the steps I take. But… I… I’m _exhausted_. I’m so exhausted, Juno.”

He wilts, slumping forward and burying his face in his hands. Again, Juno’s arms circle him, and he’s pulled close.

“I know,” Juno shushes, “I know you are.”

Nureyev isn’t certain if Juno’s point is genuinely beginning to seep in or if he’s just broken down far too many times this evening to be good for anything more. Either way, the schematics have moved to the furthest corner of his mind.

“You wanna go to bed now?” Juno asks gently. Nureyev nods weakly against him.

“Yes…”

It’s something of a walk of shame, rising from the bed and going into the bathroom to wash his face. Looking at himself in the mirror, a pair of puffy red eyes stare back, and, good or bad, he recognizes himself with little effort. _This_ is Peter Nureyev. Battered and cracked open, revealing vulnerabilities he’d have been content filing away forever. It isn’t pretty, this man he’s faced with in his reflection. It’s grotesque and _dreadfully_ human and all of the things he’s spent the duration of his life ignoring and outrunning.

This is the person he is, and no mask will ever change that.

Wordlessly, he shuts out the light and slips back into bed beside Juno, laying his head on the lady’s chest. The ex-detective runs an almost cautious through his hair.

“We’ll work on it together,” Juno says after a beat, “One day at a time, okay? I'll help you with anything you need.” Nureyev sighs, grateful for Juno's kindness while also feeling so terribly afraid. 

“Does it ever get easier? Knowing yourself and accepting it?” Nureyev hadn’t ever imagined he’d be asking Juno such a question, especially about himself. But it feels only natural now when things have been laid so bare.

“Yeah,” Juno says, “Yeah, it does. Not right away and it’s hard. It’s real hard. But it’s so worth it, Nureyev. I promise.”

It’s a hard thing to imagine, feeling content without an alias, not to endlessly try and prove his worth. It might be impossible to imagine, were it not Juno saying it. He’s grown, just like he’s expressed possible; his lady has never smiled as much as he does now. He isn’t as prickly, still brash, but softer somehow. His love has matured, and he will always be so, so proud.

Maybe, despite the myriad of hesitations he’s anchored to, he can grow too. Juno certainly makes it seem possible.

“Alright,” Nureyev says, fatigue finally beginning to drag him towards slumber, “I’ll… I’ll try, Juno.”

Juno presses a kiss into his hair and slings an arm over Nureyev.

“That’s all I can ask. I’m proud of you, hon.” Before Nureyev can ask why, he continues, “It took a lot, admitting all that. That shit isn’t easy.”

“No. I suppose not.”

“Tomorrow’s gonna be fine, okay? You know what you need to know; you did everything you were supposed to do. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“If you think so,” Nureyev sighs, “then I believe I can try, believing it too. A little.” Juno gives him a squeeze. “I love you, Juno. So much.”

“I love you too, Nureyev. With everything, I’ve got. See you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, dear.”

“Night babe.”

Nureyev shuts his eyes, allowing sleep to come to him. The disappointment in himself for all the things he’s said and done does not leave. Nor does the belief that he could have done more if only a little. But… he’s beginning to try, and surely, that counts for something. Juno thinks as much and that helps more than anyone will ever know.

It won’t be easy, growth rarely is. But someday, he believes he won’t be dependent on a mask. Eventually, his reflection will not make him wince.

Peter Nureyev drifts off, holding his lover close and thinking of a future he can grow to embrace.

=+=

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment to give Peter Nureyev a kiss on the forehead. 
> 
> Have an amazing day/night!


End file.
